The Graveyard that EVERYONE Forgot (Coruscant)

[Kaiden Rohn]

[member="Desmond C'artyom"] was stared down by the man himself, Kaiden Rohn. He'd had many names in his life. Papa. Boss. Doc. He watched him dug up the body, then looked over to the stone which he came to see. Another fallen, forgotten comrade. He paced over to him. He wore his Havoc Squad armor, helmet in his hands. He didn't appear to be armed. But then again, looks were deceiving. He stared at the chiss, venom in his gravelly voice as he spoke.


"And what the hell is it that you think you're doing?"

Spectres of the dead gathered around him, but he could not see him. They watched, envious of his life. Envious that they died for him and that he lived. They wore the wounds they had in death, unable to find peace. His visits did little more than to make their anguish more eternal. They wanted to speak to their former comrade, tell him many things. Some wanted to offer comfort or console him. Some wanted to scold him. Some wanted him for some task that they failed to do in life.

They hung there, invisible to him and the mortals who were not touched by the force.

 

[Desmond C'artyom]

Desmond stood hunched over the grave. He whipped a muddy hand off on his pants and regarded the man carefully. He had thought the fog had covered his act, but apparently not. He tucked the fresh bone into his coat then stood fully erect. He turned to face the man, while simultaneously reaching in to his coat. He withdrew not a gun, but a piece of paper. "I am appropriating these bones for the use of the Empire. Here is the decree."

He thrusted the paper towards the man and waited. "We will be starting a new generation of cloned Jango soldiers..." He eyed the man more carefully. A commando to be sure. He wondered how in depth the mans training was. He nudged a rock with his boot as he carefully moved forward.

"What is your name soldier? Are you by chance for hire? We'll need men to train our troops," A mercenary doubtful, but the conversation would let Des close the ground.

[member="Kaiden Rohn"]

 

[Locke]

It started with a trickle. A tiny slither of loose soil sliding away, down into the tiny crevasses around the grave itself. The telltales of motion beneath, the hints of movement below. For the figure, it always started slowly. The slow process of awareness, of control. Ancient joints shifting, old bones moving. Dust to shake off.

He was distantly aware of a voice. Not one of the whispers, this one was heard, not felt. A woman's voice. A living voice. He felt the surprise, the jolt within the words that followed the shriek of surprise. There was threat in such words, in such a voice, and yet there wasn't. A chiding tone, one of annoyance and inconvenience, not of anger and hate. He ignored them. They were not important to him. To his task. But he kept aware, for if one had found him another may soon. Or, perhaps, the same one would come back. His work was difficult for others to understand. To comprehend. To fathom.

The figure held out a hand, the palm facing upwards. Slowly, wordlessly, the hand rose to the sky. The trickle of earth turned into a deluge. Dirt shifted this way and that as it was pushed upwards, outwards. After a moment, the soil parted and a single hand emerged. Skinless, fleshless, the bones clawed at the air as the blackness swirled around the fingers. It found purchase upon the dirt and soon another hand emerged, just as bare as the first. Inch by inch, moment by moment, the bones beneath became the bones above as the skeleton pulled itself free of the earth that had contained it. Clad in the tatters of an ancient uniform, wrapped in the faint swirls of darkened steam, the thing stood silent as it shook the last of the damp soil from its bones. From deep within black eye sockets, red pinpricks of glow appeared as the ancient corpse became fully aware of its surroundings. The red-glow gaze fixed itself upon the figure that had summoned it, the soul within now understanding there was no escape, only release when the time came. A final release upon the figure's choosing or fate's.

Your bidding.

It was a question as much as it was a statement. An acknowledgement of servitude as much as an inquiry of direction. He didn't respond. He didn't need to. The figure shrugged off the pack he carried, tossing it at the feet of the minion he had summoned. Bound to his will. The inside clacked and clattered and, wordlessly, the creature stooped to take it. Inside lay armor, weapons, and the unliving bones paused for a moment. Understanding rather than hesitation.

Silently, it tore the tattered and rotted clothes from its body and began to don the armor given, old bones remembering war and conflict once more with each clasp and plate. Power pack slid into receiver as the weapon within was drawn and armed. The sidearm was placed comfortably upon the thigh as the black smoke flowed into the bodysuit, giving it form and fullness where muscle and flesh no longer remained. The thing pulled the helmet upon its head, the red glow hidden behind a blank visor. A blank face. The task complete, it stood silently, weapon held comfortably - professionally - in its gloved hands.

Beneath his own faceplate, the figure allowed a single, grim smile.

[member="Desmond C'artyom"] [member="Kaiden Rohn"] [member="Priscilla Genesis"] [member="Stardust Raxis"] @Harvey"The Gent"

 

[Kaiden Rohn]

[member="Desmond C'artyom"] got a mean stare for a few moments. He cracked his knuckles, and stepped forward. The Havoc Squad logo on his shoulder and his chest should let him do enough talking, but he decided that it'd be better to introduce himself. He had to remember that he didn't have a rank anymore. Because he didn't have an army to belong to.

"You'll have to be especially more specific in regards to which Empire. I've buried Empires. I've watched them come and go. And whatever the hell it is you think you're doing here- you shouldn't. Sinner."

He added the last part venomously, gauntlet-adorned hands curling into fists. How dare he desecrate his holy ground of his brothers and sisters with his bidding.

 

[D'vok Windroamer]

D'vok windroamer walked silently through the graveyard. His arms hung loosely to his sides, one clutching an old mark 2 clone trooper helmet, with purple markings. He glanced at the other patrons, nodding quietly to them, before arriving at a small gravestone. D'vok looked at the gravestone, a solemn look taking over his face.
CHERNAN WINDROAMER
21BBY-2BBY
D'vok stared at the stone for moments, placing the helmet on top of it, staring intently in the eyes of the helm, his face becoming more and more gloomy, finally he fell to his knees.
"Hi, Dad."

 

[Desmond C'artyom]

Desmond observed the Havoc squad logo on the man's pauldron. It was an elite task force that Desmond knew well. It's roots extended all the way back to the old Republic. This man was a trained killer, no doubt. The collapse of the Republic would mean that he was also a mercenary. This Desmond could work with.

"Why my good sir, this man buried here is a simple tool. He and his kind were built to serve. Now he will serve again in death,"

Desmond withdrew the bone from his jacket and studied it. The secrets that were locked away in it's DNA. The bone carried a legacy within it. One that spoke of a man who killed Jedi with his bare fist. One that spoke of an army that nearly wiped out the Jedi order. The empire would make good use of it.

"And, I speak of the one true Empire of course! The Imperial remnant is making a resurgence to take back what is rightfully ours,"

The new empire headed under one [member="Tanomas Graf"] was a glorious idea. One that would do away with the prejudices of the old and build upon the freedoms that most regime's only spoke of. Oh yes, it would be a glorious return indeed.

"As I suspect you are currently out of a job I offer to you a chance soldier. A chance to train the next generation of Imperial die hards and perhaps even lead them. You would be well compensated for your efforts,"

[member="Kaiden Rohn"]

 

[Harvey"The Gent"]

Harvey would rise from talking with the female Jedi, as he now moved on to the Imperial Man, seeing him flash a bone around.

"Sir, I am Commander Harvey Dologanta, the last commander of the Shadow Clone Commando Squadron, and I must inform you to return the bone to its rightful grave, and leaves these poor souls be."

He'd be in his black commando armor, as he had carried and places his helmet on his head.

"Failure to do so will result in the Detainment and removal of yourself from the Graveyard."

[member="Desmond C'artyom"]

 

[Kaiden Rohn]

[member="Desmond C'artyom"] got a hateful stare.

"He did not ask to be born. And he won't be a pawn in your game. Put it back, you vile cretin."

 

[Harvey"The Gent"]

He'd turn his head towards [member="Kaiden Rohn"], noticing he was a clone. "Soldier, who are you? What Squadron are you with, and what position do you hold in that Squadron?"

 

[Commander Firestorm]

A large ship arrived out of hyperspace and was followed by the distinct and unmistakable sound of an old republic gunship filled the sky as it descended down on Coruscant and landed in front of the graveyard. The gunship's blast doors opened to reveal a young looking ARC trooper wearing hybrid phase 1 and phase 2 armor, his helmet in his hand. He stepped off the ship and into the graveyard. As he looked around disbelief was painted across his face like a mural on a wall. So much had happened without him, both good and bad.

His armor making the only noise in his vicinity, each step causing it to rattle. This trooper was no ghost but rather a relic of bygone era, preserved throughout the ages through a deep slumber. Two custom DC-17 blaster pistols were holstered on either side of his hips, a lightsaber, built to look just like a thermal detonator to disguise it, was magnetically attached to his armor's belt. He could sense the spirits of the dead and could hear their stories, it frightened him, before now he had not known of the Jedi Purge. He could hear echoes of the past, screams of the Jedi as the troopers turned on them. He collapsed to his knees when he spotted one particular grave and stared down at it. It was he Jedi he had served under.

Here lies Master Alex Shrin

He uttered a single word, "No," as tears rolled down his face. This Jedi had taught him all he knew of the force and lightsaber combat, through this he had grown closer to her.

 

[Desmond C'artyom]

Desmonmd would simply put the bone in his coat pocket. The troopers were not going to listen, so he would have to improvise. He let the coat fall around his frame then activated its stealth features. He would now appear as a mere heat shimmer. As he moved through the graveyard and made his escape..

 

[Commander Firestorm]

Firestorm had placed his helmet on when he noticed a thermal blur run by him. He flipped down his rangefinder and switched on thermal imaging just barely managing to catch a glimpse of the cloaked figure and flipped his rangefinder up again. He then turned, got up and walked further into the graveyard until he saw something he didn't expect at all, a ghost of a clone Commando. He proceeded forward cautiously.

 

[Locke]

The task complete, the job done. The figure paused for a moment, gazing around. Head turning slowly, carefully. No signs, no droplets. No footprints. The whisper remained, but subdued. Silent. It was time to move on. Time to go elsewhere. His work was done. His work continued. This was the beginning of the end. Or, perhaps, the end of the beginning. He didn't know which. He never knew which. Nor did he particularly care. It was his calling, he felt. Perceived. Understood. He'd long since lost his ability to 'feel' in the normal sense. To connect. Perhaps he never could.

He jerked his head lightly to one side. A signal. The soldier that stood before him said nothing, for it could say nothing. It could only obey. The second figure kept the weapon comfortably in its grasp and moved ahead of its master. It moved with the practiced efficiency of a career soldier. A professional warrior with years of experience. A knowledge of war and its ways spanning a lifetime, unafraid of death. Instead, welcoming it as an old friend. Someone they had met before. Knew before.

The figure followed, the same ease of gait. The same comfortable hold on his weapon. Behind, he knew, commotion stirred. Arguments, harsh words. Perhaps gun or blaster fire would follow. Perhaps not. It was irrelevant in any case. His task was complete, the signs were gone. A soul had been bound and raised. More would likely follow when the signs returned and his work would continue.

Ahead, the gates of the cemetery lay open, the entrance left unlocked and unguarded. The pair of armored figures passed through without issue. No warnings had been issued, no calls sounded. No alarms. No klaxons. Only the sound of combat boots upon the path the two trod.

The newly raised bodyguard paused once as they neared the street. The helmet swiveled back and forth for a moment before the minion continued its march forward. The figure nodded once to itself, pleased with his work. Now it was just a waiting game.

A wait for the signs to return.

[member="Commander Firestorm"] [member="Desmond C'artyom"] @Harvey"The Gent" [member="Kaiden Rohn"] @D'vok Windroamer [member="Priscilla Genesis"] [member="Stardust Raxis"]

 

[Commander Firestorm]

Firestorm walked on, seeing an Old Republic Havoc Trooper and a man holding a phase 2 clone helmet. He pulled off his helmet once more, his face undeniably that of a Fett clone. He remained standing in that position watching the man and the trooper while eyeing the ghost every so often.
@Locke @Harvey"The Gent" @D'vok Windroamer [member="Kaiden Rohn"]

 

[D'vok Windroamer]

D'vok remained silent at the grave for a long while. Soon he got up, and put the helmet on as he noticed all the other clones around him.
"Erm... Hello evryone. What exactly is going on here?"

 

[Commander Firestorm]

"I just came to see the Jedi Temple but instead found this graveyard, also I've been stuck in cryogenic stasis for a while and I don't even know for how long."
He proceeded to use the force to pull his lightsaber (disguised as a thermal detonator) from his belt and flicked it on then off. @D'vok Windroamer

 

[D'vok Windroamer]

D'vok gave an un-amused glance at the lightsaber before looking back at the man.
"Cryogenic stasis, huh? You look like one o' those 'Special' ARCs. I got frozen in carbonite for a while. You get used to it after a while. What unit were you assigned to? My dad," D'vok pointed to the Mk.II clone trooper helm with purple markings, then to a grave a few feet away.
"Was part of 187th. He got to fight under Mace Windu in the clone wars. He used to take me on trips to the jedi temple when he wasn't away on missions."

 

[Commander Firestorm]

"Hmm, I think I might have been an acquaintance of his, judging by the unique paint scheme on the helmet, but I never really got to know him well. And yep I am an ARC trooper, my name is Commander Firestorm or just Firestorm, I am or was the commander of the the 608th Battalion." He placed the lightsaber back on the rear of his belt. "He gave me this though." He pulled out a purple striped DC-15 blaster. "Here you take it." He handed the blaster over to D'vok. @D'vok Windroamer

 

[Harvey"The Gent"]

He'd remove his helmet, looking at the two with extreme curiosity and amazement that clones were still around. "I am Harvey Dologanta, Clone Commander of the Commando Shadow Squad, last used to guard the Entrance of the Jedi Temple. I was the only one without my Inhibitor chip, as my brothers in arms gunned me down as I fought against them."

[member="Commander Firestorm"] [member="D'vok Windroamer"]

 

[Commander Firestorm]

@Harvey"The Gent" @D'vok Windroamer
Firestorm turned to look at the Harvey's ghost. "I'm sorry to that you died fighting fighting your own. I still have much chip but it would have been useless on me, it was faulty and broken. I gained the ability to completely think freely around halfway into the war, though I continued to server without question as I felt it was the right thing to do, protect the innocent from those who would do harm to them. I was stuck on a Derelict Venator-Class Star Destroyer that was transporting me to Coruscant when it was hit by a EM storm in hyperspace, it forced the crew to abandon ship. So that's wehre I've been all this time."